Memories
by randomizer747
Summary: Written in response to the prompt "Four ways Kalinda never said "I love you"  and one she did " for sweetjamielee's February 2012 Ficathon.


By now, it was a running joke between the two of them. Alicia would say "I love you" to Kalinda, and Kalinda would comment on the weather, or ask what they were having for dinner, or sometimes roll her eyes, Alicia-style. Kalinda knew that Alicia wasn't bothered by this anymore: after all these years, both knew how they felt about one another. Time has a way of smoothing out personality quirks and idiosyncrasies, but Kalinda would always be someone who maintained an inverse relationship between the amount that she felt and the amount she was able to say. And, to be fair, Alicia clearly enjoyed this "I-love-you" game a lot more than Kalinda did.

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas, the time of year when Alicia tended to go a little wonkily sentimental, when a stray "I love you" might drop at any time, without warning: Kalinda had to keep a wary eye on her. You'd think that a committed atheist like Alicia would treat Christmas as nothing more than an illogical attempt to brainwash the masses.

You'd be wrong.

Today, however, Alicia seemed too busy for anything beyond bustling around and fussing over the tree.

'Is it straight?" she asked Kalinda, for the third time.

Kalinda squinted at the blue spruce, cocking her head left and right. "It's good." It was a nice one this year, she thought to herself. Kalinda secretly liked Christmas trees, although she'd never admit that to anyone.

"I can't believe that the Baldwin case is going to trial so soon in January. I really shouldn't be taking _any_ time off for Christmas, let alone a week."

"It'll be fine. You're ready. It's a good case." Kalinda's reassuring face had gotten better with practice, and she saw Alicia visibly relax a little.

"Everyone's coming for Christmas Eve this year. We're never going to get everything done in time."

Kalinda gave her a half-smile. "Who's coming, exactly?" At Alicia's mock-exasperated look, Kalinda realized that she probably should already know the answer to this question.

"Zach, Laurel, and the kids are flying in from LA on the 23rd. Grace and Sarah are only going to be drop by for an hour or so—they need to get to Sarah's parents' house for supper. Will, obviously. Diane and Kurt . . . . We might pick up a few more along the way, but that's the core of it."

Kalinda was actually enjoying the thought of this Christmas Eve dinner. She really liked Zach and his wife, and, since both worked as movie animators in Los Angeles, they rarely all got to see each other. Grace, of course, was a Chicago public defender, whom she and Alicia saw frequently, but Grace had been so busy lately that quick smiles when their paths crossed in court were all that they'd been able to manage for months. Kalinda still found children vaguely puzzling, but even she had to admit that it was fun to see Zach's twin boys opening presents.

Alicia was in her brisk mode now. "So I've still got to shop and decorate . . . would you mind hauling the ornaments out of the garage?"

"Sure." Kalinda felt that she got off easy; there were a lot of worse tasks that she could have been assigned. Her thoughts drifted back to Alicia as she rummaged through the stacks of boxes, looking for the right one. It's not that she had _never_ wanted to tell Alicia that she loved her. God knows, it's not that she didn't _feel_ it—she'd been hopelessly in love with the woman for more than twenty years, in an unwavering, embarrassing, Hallmark-card way that she never would have thought herself capable of. But _telling _Alicia all that was something else again, something that she'd always felt a lot safer not saying out loud.

Kalinda could probably count on the fingers of one hand the times that she almost said "I love you" to Alicia, and there were extenuating circumstances in each that certainly had to be taken into account. The first time she was in shock—falling in love with Alicia Florrick was the last thing she'd ever expected would happen to her. She remembered it more clearly than she could recall almost anything else in her life: a day spent in Alicia's apartment, working on a last-ditch death row appeal. Sitting with Alicia, drinking, feeling an unaccountable burst of affection as they talked a bit about each other's life. And finally, listening to Alicia's impassioned appeal to a judge at the end of the emotional day as she argued for a man's life: (_So much of what we do is uncertain. So much of my day is spent working between right and wrong. But this has to be right. To do this to a man . . . it has to be right._) And Kalinda watched, mesmerized, as Alicia, drained and unusually emotional, choked and impatiently brushed away her tears. Before that precise moment, Kalinda never really knew why they called it "falling in love": it actually _was_ like tumbling off a cliff, realizing what she felt, what it would mean, and how hopeless it all was. "I love you" very nearly escaped before she was even aware of what she was about to say, but she managed to choke it back into the more colleague-appropriate "You did good."

The next time she almost said it was on the darkest day of her life. (_I'm an idiot. I never once thought you were my friend out of guilt, out of some guilty welfare for poor little me._) Kalinda could still hear that cold hiss in her dreams, even after all this time, even though it had long been forgiven and should have been long forgotten. But Kalinda remembered that helpless feeling of being unable to tell Alicia what she really wanted to say, of fighting back the "I love you" that would have been the ruining of her. Just answering "That's not why. I don't have friends, Alicia. You were a friend" was painful enough. After all, there's only so much you can say to someone else when you happen to be drowning at the time.

Then there was the night they went out drinking for the second or third time after they had begun to rebuild. It was the first night in a long, long time that Kalinda had felt really relaxed—the first night she was confident that she and Alicia had a future as friends, even if that's all they ever were going to be to each other. And at that moment, after so many months of feeling so entirely alone, the thought of that friendship was more than enough. The first couple of times they had met for a drink together were tentative, a little awkward. The weight of what they were risking, how badly they wanted to make it work, was heavy on both of them. This time was lighter, different: there was laughter, no awkwardness at all, and Kalinda let herself drink a little more than usual as she felt the unaccustomed surge of pure, uncomplicated happiness seeping in. "I love you" almost got away from her then, in a drunken haze of bliss. But fortunately, she managed to corral it enough simply to smile and watch Alicia come back to life in front of her eyes. Tequila had always been one of Kalinda's weaknesses.

The next time Kalinda almost slipped was five years later, right after they had moved into their first apartment together. And it wasn't one of their passionate nights (and there were many of those) that almost got her—it was a particularly nasty twenty-four hour flu. Kalinda prided herself on never getting sick: she could easily sidestep all of the colds, headaches, stomach bugs, and other ailments that plagued every other living creature on earth, secretly smirking and wondering why they made such a fuss about how they felt. But this particular illness hit her hard, hit her with dizzying nausea, a spiking fever, and a physical weakness that would have terrified her if she'd had the energy to think about it. And suddenly, as she lay on the bed feeling as though death would be the kindest of her possible options, Alicia was there, all cool hands and compresses, loving concern and soft words. Kalinda could not remember the last time she was this vulnerable, the last time someone took _care_ of her. She drifted off to sleep before the "I love you" floated to the surface. But of course, the fact that she was drugged on Nyquil and partially unconscious had a lot to do with it.

Kalinda finally found the box of ornaments and carried it inside, staggering a little under its weight. Where did they ever get all of these ornaments? It looked like they had more than enough to decorate three separate trees.

"Great! Thanks!" Alicia literally beamed (she really _was_ goofy over Christmas) as she pawed through the box, searching for something. She pulled out two decorations and held them up for Kalinda to inspect. "What do you think for this year? Star or angel on top?"

Kalinda looked at the two choices, and then looked at Alicia's face, so intent, so open. Her throat caught unexpectedly. (_God, she's still so beautiful_.) Kalinda shook herself out of whatever _that_ was and concentrated on the choices in front of her. Star, she decided. Definitely the star. She opened her mouth to say that.

"I love you" is what came out instead.

Alicia's eyebrows lifted. She looked momentarily stunned, and then wickedly amused. Putting the star and the angel back into the box, she walked over to Kalinda, put her hands on either side of her face, and kissed her softly, smiling. "Better late than never," was all she said. Kalinda blushed.


End file.
